


Falling

by n0cturnus



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Depression, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gavin Reed-centric, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inspired by a Harry Styles Song, M/M, Meant to be Reed900, References to Depression, Song: Falling (Harry Styles), Songfic, could be any ship though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23589442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0cturnus/pseuds/n0cturnus
Summary: Gavin wanted to call him in times like these, to apologize, but he felt like not even a thousand words would fix them. He knew that not even a thousand words could fix them.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Kudos: 30





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Falling by Harry Styles.

He slammed the door closed behind him, the force of it shaking the walls, as he walked into his mess of an apartment at 2AM.

His neighbors would probably be annoyed by that. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but Gavin didn't really care for pleasing them.

He kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket over the back of the couch. Almost immediately, his cat approached, rubbing against his leg affectionately and letting out a low purr followed by a meow. She expected attention, obviously, and normally he would give it to her without hesitation, but in times like these he was too immersed in his own thoughts and the bottle of alcohol in his hand to pay her much mind.

The place was a mess; clothes strewn about, takeout boxes on the counter and half-eaten pizzas still in the boxes, dishes piled in the sink. Gavin didn’t care enough to clean them up for the time being. It seemed like too much of a task.

The entire place was dimly lit, partially because of the poor light quality in the shitty apartment, and partially due to Gavin’s negligence to actually turn them on. There was no point in it anyways, he could just shower, change and go to sleep. He could probably do it with his eyes closed by this point. He had barely been at his apartment excpt for eating, sleeping, and feeding his cat.

For the fifth night in a row, he’d been at the bar since he had finished his work at the DPD.

No one else knew. No one else had to. It was none of their damn business anyways.

Stumbling down the hallway and headed into the bathroom, he turned the light on and set his phone and the half-empty bottle on the bathroom countertop. He paused to look at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. His face was painted with bruises and speckles of blood - his own blood, or someone else’s, he didn’t know - his eyebrow had a cut in it, and his lip was split.

A smile lifted to his lips. Fucker must have gotten him good.

Fowler would surely be on his ass in the morning, questioning why he looked suspiciously like he’d been in a fight. Gavin wasn’t sure whether he would come up with some sorry excuse, tell him that he’d face planted on some concrete or some bullshit of the like, or the truth, that he had been in a bar fight. It was a miracle he hadn’t been banned from the bar yet.

Maybe they liked him, which was probably not true, or they just liked how much he was willing to pay to drink there, to get wasted and to be in a different headspace for just a little while. A headspace where he didn't have to think about anything or about anyone.

He picked up his phone, and the bottle momentarily, just to take another drink.

No new notifications, that part wasn’t surprising. Nobody ever called. Nobody ever texted. Not even his parents, not even Elijah. It wasn’t like he wanted them to call, though. They had never been there when he really needed them to be. If he didn’t have them then, he didn’t want them now.

He went to his music playlist so he wouldn't have to be alone in the painful silence, and the first song to appear on the screen was Falling by Harry Styles, first released in 2019. Gavin put the phone back beside the bottle and walked over to the shower, twisting the knob and the water came down, cold at first but warming up quickly. Steam started to cloud the air.

He pulled his shirt over his head in a single fluid motion, letting it fall to the floor in the corner of the bathroom. Joining it moments later were his pants and socks. The piano played softly from his phone, still audible over the water from the shower.

_“I'm in my bed_

_And you're not here_

_And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.”_

He stepped into the stream of water, letting out a hiss as the hot water made contact with his bare skin. He didn’t shy away, though, in a strange way still finding solace in the high temperature of the water.

_“Forget what I said_

_It's not what I meant_

_And I can't take it back_

_I can't unpack the baggage you left”_

He still remembered everything from that night that was around a week ago, but it seemed like just hours, perfectly captured and filed away in Gavin’s memory. It could have been so easily avoided, the argument, but of course Gavin couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut and that was why he had left. His hands came up to scrub his face, not at all mindful of his injuries but watching his hands become tinted red with a mixture of blood and water.

He watched it go down the drain with a twisted sense of fascination.

_“What am I now?_

_What am I now?_

_What if I'm someone I don't want around?_

_I'm falling again_

_I'm falling again_

_I'm falling”_

While Gavin did like having the solitude he got in the shower, he wanted to go to sleep more than anything in the world right now. He already knew he was going to be hungover as all hell in the morning. He would probably be late again too.

Gavin may have been an asshole, but he did his best to keep his disciplinary folder as thin as possible. Recently, though, he'd done a poor job at that, and surely Fowler knew something was wrong. If he did, he certainly wasn't expressing it. Gavin wouldn't be surprised if he didn't care either.

He grabbed the towel off of the hook and wrapped it around himself, realizing how red his skin looked from the water. Gavin distantly realized that he probably should have been more concerned over his injuries than he was, more concerned about his health than he was, but in the moment he couldn’t really bring himself to care all that much.

_“What if I'm down?_

_What if I'm out?_

_What if I'm someone you won't talk about?_

_I'm falling again_

_I'm falling again_

_I'm falling”_

He picked up his phone and the bottle, the latter a cool contrast against his skin, and slowly walked into his room a little further down the hall. If the other rooms were bad, this one was the worst, clothes piled by a full laundry hamper, bottles and cigarettes by and on the nightstand.

He wondered if he ever thought about him like Gavin did. If his name ever passed his lips in conversation, or as a mere thought. Unlikely, he knew it was unlikely, but he just couldn’t push the thought from his mind.

He got dressed in the dark of the night as the music played softly in the background, only caring to put on underwear and sweatpants before practically collapsing into bed, downing the rest of the bottle and adding it to the pile.

_“And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.”_

He’d fucked up so bad. If he would have just been better.. he could have been better, and he wouldn’t have walked out on Gavin. He had overstepped such a simple boundary, and at the end of the day it was entirely his fault. He knew that. It was embarrassing how badly his mental health had spiraled out of control since the android walked out on him. And to think! An android. He had sworn to himself he would never even be friends with one, and then he went and fell for one. And then he'd fucked up and ruined everything.

Gavin wanted to call him in times like these, to apologize, but he felt like not even a thousand words would fix them.

He _knew_ that not even a thousand words could fix them.

He left his phone by his bed and the song on a loop as he watched the ceiling. That same song must have played a dozen times before his eyes slipped shut and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

_“I'm falling again_

_I'm falling again_

_I'm falling..”_


End file.
